


Abashed The Devil Stood

by Copperonthetongue



Series: Paradise Lost [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BAMF Carl, Canon-Typical Violence, Carl does NOT want to be bros, Carl is a Little Shit, Carl needs some serious therapy, Gen, Negan Being Negan, Negan POV, Negan wants to be bros, POV, Sad Carl Grimes, Season/Series 07, So does Negan, Spoilers, Swearing, Terrible Decisons, The inside Of Negan's brain is not a happy place, introspective, negan is an asshole, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperonthetongue/pseuds/Copperonthetongue
Summary: Negan knows exactly how dangerous letting Carl Grimes keep breathing is, he just doesn't care... because feeling fear is better than feeling nothing at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiromori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiromori/gifts).



Life sure could be strange, especially after the end of the world. Sometimes it even shocked him, the weird curveballs reality tossed at those left behind to pick up the ugly pieces of their shattered lives. You’d really think he’d have seen everything by now. He’s not exactly new at this, after all...he’s been around plenty and he’s seen some truly horrendous fuckery going down. Hell, if he’s being honest, ( and he does try and at least be honest with himself when it comes to his own motivations and actions) he’s been responsible for a solid half of that fuckery personally. Yet in all the places he’s been, and after all the things that he’s seen ...never once has he run across anybody like Carl Grimes, and in this particular moment he can’t help but be eternally grateful for that little bit of luck.

 

This new world is his ocean, and in that ocean he is, was and always has been a motherfucking shark….everybody else is just a fish, swimming in his water because by his good grace he allows them to continue to do so with the firm understanding that they are there for his use, whenever and however he chooses. In all the time he’s been out in the big bad world he has never once doubted for a single moment that he’s the biggest, baddest motherfucking shark in his personal sea. So, naturally he’s never had occasion to really be afraid of someone before. Not somebody alive at any rate, because let’s be honest... if you aren’t at least a little scared of the goddamned Rotters then you’re either insane or an idiot and he happens to be neither of those things despite various and sundry opinions to the contrary. People are afraid of Negan, not the other way around. That’s just how the world works now. At least that’s how it’s supposed to work at any rate..

 

None of that changed the fact that since the moment he’d looked down into the pale blue eye peering up at him from beneath that battered old sheriff's hat that he’s been scared shitless. He’d rather die than ever admit such a thing out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true. Like his Granny always said; you can lie to other folks all you want to but only a coward lies to himself. He’s not a coward, but he is most definitely afraid of Carl Grimes. It’s a sensation he’s not sure if he likes or not but since it’s not going anywhere any time soon he’s gonna have to get used to it for sure and fucking certain. It was the strongest emotion he could remember having in what had begun to feel like eternity. 

 

He’s seen a lot of dangerous people. A lot of crazy motherfuckers. A lot of mean motherfuckers and some crazy AND mean motherfuckers, and he’s enjoyed taking apart every last one of them….finding their seams and pulling them apart for his own amusement. He’s met men that offended even his fucked up sense of right and wrong but not one of them ever inspired the sort of gut deep, animal fear that the kid with the eyepatch and attitude managed without ever having to say a single word. 

 

Carl Grimes wasn’t afraid of him. He’d just watched him cave in the heads of two of his group, two of his fucking family and he never so much as twitched an inch. He didn’t beg, he for damn sure didn’t threaten like his old man; and wasn’t that a stupid goddamned thing to do? You never tell a man you’re gonna kill him before you have to. Why warn him? Why give him time to prepare or put him on guard? Ole’ Rick would have been better off taking a lesson from his boy and keeping his mouth shut and his intentions to himself until the time was right. Rick was gonna have to learn the hard way most likely and that didn’t bother Negan one bit. 

 

One of his many talents was reading folks. Hell, it was what had kept him alive and on top for so damned long…. so in a sense it was his stock in trade. All he had to do was look into a person’s eyes to take their measure and get a basic sense of who they were, and how best to twist them and what buttons to push to get what he needed out of them. 

 

So when he’d looked down into that pale blue eye it was a shock to realize that he could see absolutely nothing at all reflected back at him. Carl Grimes was as empty as a fresh dug grave inside in that moment. Not checked out or unaware, like some folks did to escape the shit their minds just ...couldn’t handle. There was just, nothing there to read. Not. One. Thing. No rage, no hurt, no fear, and maybe the most chilling; no hesitation. Carl Grimes was a killer right down to the marrow of his bones, just like Negan himself and he couldn’t help but wonder if the kid had been born that way like him or if it had happened somewhere along the line during the collapse of the world. 

 

Even when he’d been laying belly down in the dirt while his father wept and begged and pleaded with Negan not to make him cut off his arm he’d been calm. Steady and almost impatient with his father’s emotional outburst and his natural hesitation to do the deed. Fuck’s sake, he’d been about to lose a body part and the only emotion he could detect in the boy’s voice had been a muted sort of frustration at his father’s histrionics. Not to mention the clear and present lack of general terror when he’d asked what the hell a southpaw was. It had taken every ounce of control Negan had in his entire goddamn body and then some not to laugh at the deadpan look of irritation the boy had given him, like they were simply having a normal conversation and Negan was being particularly fucking obtuse. 

 

Carl Grimes would never warn him that he was going to kill him. He wouldn’t threaten, he wouldn’t rail against the unfairness of life or allow himself to be shocked or manipulated by Negan’s cruelty. He for damn sure wouldn’t be led around by his emotions like his father or the stupid redneck fuckwit that had made him kill the Asian kid while his pretty wife watched (and hadn’t that been a hoot and a half, but he was a man of his word after all and while he’d used a bit of licence in choosing who to punish for that little cheap shot he couldn’t have just ...let it go. It would have been bad for morale in the long run.) Carl Grimes would accept what happened to him and those around him with that unflappable and steely resolve and go on as necessary until the right moment came, no matter how long it took….and when it did come at last, he would kill Negan without a shred of remorse or a single moment of hesitation. He would never see it coming. If he had an ounce of common sense or self preservation he’d put a bullet in the boy’s brain where he stood...but he wasn’t going to. He wanted to see what would happen. 

 

All things being said and done, he was fairly certain that he was no longer the only shark in his personal sea and while he hadn't come to a decision just yet about how he felt about that he knew he wasn’t willing to give up that sense of connection just yet. He hadn’t felt ANYTHING strongly in so long that in a way he actually enjoyed the feelings Carl Grimes sparked in him despite their being less than entirely positive and pleasant. It was SOMETHING and after so long in the muted gray fog of his daily existence that was worth more than he could really put into words even in the privacy of his own mind. He was without question or hesitation acutely curious about the kid, about what had made him who he was, who he was becoming. Honestly he hoped he didn’t live to see the end result of Carl Grimes growing up. One thing was certain, he wanted to know more about the boy…. and eventually he would. He was a patient man, and after all, good things come to those who wait and Negan? Well, he was very very good at waiting and he had the sneaking suspicion that so was Carl. 

 

This was going to be fun.


End file.
